


The Silent Treatment

by masongirl



Category: Band of Brothers (TV 2001)
Genre: Affection, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anger, Arguing, Established Relationship, Fights, Kissing, M/M, Making Up, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Relationship Problems, Sulking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 21:20:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28945050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masongirl/pseuds/masongirl
Summary: Carwood and Ron start the day with a fight.
Relationships: Carwood Lipton/Ronald Speirs
Comments: 4
Kudos: 35
Collections: Loose Lips Sink Ships Prompt Meme





	The Silent Treatment

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Howling_Harpy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Howling_Harpy/gifts).



A content smile plays around Carwood’s lips when he realizes that it wasn’t the shrill sound of his alarm that woke him up today, but the sunshine. For once, his head isn’t heavy from fatigue, and he feels well-rested. That's plenty enough for a promising start of the day. He turns over and pats at the other half of the bed blindly, finding Ron’s biceps after a few misses. When he slides his hand down under the duvet, he can feel Ron's pulse in the soft crook of his arm.

Carwood's smile widens. Everything is the way it should be. He moves in for a little cuddling, to nuzzle the warm skin below the sleeve of Ron’s shirt, but to his surprise, Ron wrenches his arm away. The bed springs creak and the blanket rises, and just like that, he’s out of Carwood’s reach. Then the bathroom door slams shut. Carwood’s eyes snap open.

_Oh. So that’s how it's going to be today, huh?_

He wants to hit something. The drowsy, serene mood he was in just a few seconds ago disappears as if he’s been slapped in the face. Being rejected by Ron is the worst feeling in the world, and it takes a few minutes to recover from it even though he knows what's wrong. Ron doesn’t tend to hold onto his anger overnight, so Carwood assumes that he’s angry _again._ Something must have reminded him that his weekend plans are all ruined because of Carwood. Because Carwood is "incapable of saying no" when someone asks for his help. 

_“It’s not my fault that you made a reservation without asking me first,”_ Carwood wants to yell at Ron, but they’ve already had a few rounds of that yesterday. He knows what would happen if he rubbed that salt in the wound again. Ron would repeat that Carwood’s slob of a cousin can go to hell for asking a last-minute favour, then Carwood would tell him that a family emergency is more important than some stupid surprise dinner, and then Ron would look at him with that wounded expression again. He misunderstood Carwood’s entire argument yesterday and he’s inconsolably pissed off about it now.

Carwood sighs and climbs out of bed to dress up. Damn it, he’s angry too. Ron is so stupid! Such a selfish bastard sometimes. So what if Carwood didn’t ask him before saying yes? They’re their own separate people, it’s not like Ron has to come along to haul furniture out of a shabby apartment. They don't need to spend every waking moment together. 

The longer Carwood mulls it over, the more frustrated his thoughts get. He shouldn't have agreed to help. He’d much rather spend his day with his boyfriend, but he can’t back out of his promise now, can he? Besides, Ron has resorted to petty sulking and to giving him the silent treatment. Carwood isn't even sure which part of the fight enrages Ron the most, the dinner they're going to miss, the fact that Carwood didn't tell him that he wouldn't be home all Saturday or Carwood's bad choice of words yesterday.

Whatever. If Ron's going to act like that, Carwood will return it in kind. He purses his lips and completely ignores Ron and his testiness. 

The frosty atmosphere persists over breakfast. Ron doesn't even take a seat, he just wolfs down a toast as if the bread was his personal enemy and downs his coffee standing up by the counter. When Carwood goes to grab a glass for himself and accidentally brushes against his shoulder, Ron slams his mug down on the kitchen island and storms off into the living room. The TV turns on. Carwood wishes his eyes could shoot lightning.

After that miserable start, he thinks the morning can only get better, but he's wrong. Sorely mistaken. His infuriation refuses to dissipate. If Ron is an asshole, he can be one right back, he decides. He takes the laundry out of the dryer and, as if Ron wasn’t even sitting in it, he pours their freshly washed clothes on the armchair. Ron growls and stands up, with a grey sock hanging from his shoulder, and he glares at Carwood with the force of a thousand daggers. Carwood is no butter though. He can take the heat. That's why he and Ron got together in the first place. No, he's not going to dignify this behaviour with an answer. He starts folding his own shirts, leaving Ron’s wherever they happened to fall and continues to look right through Ron until he stomps away.

Turns out that doing simple, thoughtless chores can drain the venom out of Carwood's heart in half an hour. There's only sadness left in its wake. It's obvious that he'll be the one who has to resolve this fight and for his own peace of mind, he needs to do it before he leaves. He glances at the closed bedroom door, then picks up Ron's clothes from the floor and folds them into a neat pile next to his own. He presses his face to them when they're done. 

"Fuck." He whispers. It's not his style to say that out loud, but once in a while, when he can't find relief in anything else, it lets some of the pressure escape.

Ron is on the phone when Carwood enters their bedroom. Based on his words, he has just cancelled their reservation. His shoulders tense at the noise of footsteps behind him, but he doesn't turn around. The restaurant says goodbye, Ron hangs up, the device clatters on the bedside table. Then there's only silence again.

"I have to go." Carwood announces. It’s the first thing he has said to Ron since last night’s fight. "See you in a few hours."

Ron scoffs and leans against the wall. He must be thinking about the fact that these favours are never done within the expected time. If they were, he wouldn't have had to cancel the lovely dinner he planned. Barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Carwood leans in for their usual goodbye kiss, but Ron doesn't return it. Although he doesn't lean away either, he crosses his arms over his chest to signal that this was only a grudging acceptance, not a beacon of peace. His lips are pressed flat.

It's ridiculous. Even Ron himself must know it, because he's struggling to keep the darkness in his eyes. Carwood feels his lips wobble up. “Okay.”

Ron's gaze darts to his face, then instantly away, but it's already too late. The connection has been made, and it wipes the anger away from Ron's face in ripples, like a drop of rain ruffles the surface of a pond. The furrow between Ron's eyebrows flattens, his eyes widen from their glare and the corners of his lips twitch. Carwood tilts his head, and Ron bursts into laughter.

"You're playing dirty." He says between chuckles and puts both palms on Carwood's neck to hold him still for a quick kiss, then for a longer one that leaves Carwood's lips warm and cherished.

Carwood sighs his relief into the space between their mouths. He cuts right to the chase. “I didn’t mean that my biological family is more important than you.”

Ron's hands squeeze his shoulders. “Of course they are more important. I don't expect -”

“No, that’s not how it goes.” Carwood interrupts before Ron can go any further. He holds Ron's gaze. “Ron, you know."

The gleam in Ron's eyes softens, and he presses his face to Carwood’s neck, as if to say, _I do._ "I'm sorry." 

"Me too."

They slip into a tight hug, Carwood's arms around Ron's waist and Ron's hands on Carwood's back. Rubbing the hurt and the guilt away as they flow through between their splayed fingers. It's over. Another fight they climbed over. 

Their love grows stronger with every blink.

_~End~_

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this story to expand on one of the headcanons I shared on Tumblr. If you wanna talk about Speirton with me over there, you can send me an ask anytime. :)


End file.
